Howl [COD Simon Ghost Riley & John Soap Mactavish AU]

I Want to Find You

Soap watched Simon walk out.

It hadn't bothered him that he left, he was only glad he had stayed as long as he did. That he had followed Soap into the room at all.

He knew, to be still and let someone stand over him was not something Simon was used to. It always seemed that Ghost was the one to leave precarious situations unscathed, and now he knew why. But he hadn't left this one unscathed. Soap knew he was in the line of fire when Simon got hit. He hadn't found it in himself to mention that, not yet.

Knowing he could get Simon riled up, that there was a physical want, was satisfying but it was the emotional vulnerability that sat heavy in Soap's chest. And it wasn't much, it was small taste after small taste. Admitting he felt he should be feared was one of those pieces.

They'd gotten closer in Mexico, a mission that had seen serious betrayal and narrow escape, and they'd proven they made an excellent team. And Ghost had proven, whether he wanted Soap to realize it or not, that he was protective of him. That he didn't want to lose him. None of them wanted to lose each other, but it was inevitable in their line of work, and self sacrifice to prevent it was generally looked down upon. They all knew the risks. The task at hand was the only goal.

Soap had been injured on that one and Ghost had hung back, stuck beside him. He'd gotten him out. And Soap knew that. They hadn't spoken about it, not during or after, but it had meant something to him. Sometimes, when he saw what even a moment of kindness could do to the man, he wished he'd thanked him better. Told him what it had really done for him. He wore that mask to protect himself, Soap was well aware of that, but many were too wary of what might be hiding beneath it to go searching. Soap had been offered a rare glance at it. At Simon.

He'd heard Simon leave the base. He hadn't been able to wind down for a bit either, Simon's hand in the collar of his shirt something he very much wanted to give in to. But it hadn't been about him. He hadn't wanted it to be. It had been an apology in a way. Sorry you had to risk your darkest secret on me. Sorry you lost the one person who truly related to you. Sorry I can't do more for you, Simon. Sorry I pushed at an open wound.

It had also been a want. Like a fantasy. Soap had always been loved, by his family, his friends. He knew he was a likeable person and he embraced it because it was something he could use to his advantage. His own mask. He had wanted to let it down for Ghost the same way Ghost had removed his for Soap. He didn't want to joke and play, he wanted to sit the man down and show him just what he was willing to do for him. Without asking for something in return.

He wanted to protect him, not physically because god knows he didn't need it, but emotionally. Protect his peace. Maybe he didn't have any left to protect, maybe it was wild of Soap to think he had the ability. But he could open himself up to try. Give him a safe place. Not that he hadn't had one before, he just hadn't had one in a long, long time.

--

It was late morning, judging by the way the sun came through a single window at the top of the wall. Simon had been awake for a while, groggy, coming off of whatever they'd drugged him with. He remembered why he hated the city. You could be knocked out and dragged through the halls and streets and no one gave a fuck.

His weapons were gone, as was his shirt and his mask but his tags remained, which he noted with a shiver. His bottom lip was split, he ran his tongue over the tender, swollen flesh. He must have fought. Otherwise, he seemed unharmed. Just confused. He'd made a lot of enemies in his life, but none very recently, and few that would be able to find him there, in Berlin, in that dirty little excuse for a hotel. He calmed himself, fighting for clarity, and listening for his captors to finally approach him. He hoped it was a random kidnapping of some sort, that it wouldn't put anyone else in danger. He shifted, trying to keep his cuffed hands from falling asleep. If he did things right, he'd be out before anyone knew he was missing. He wasn't due back on base until the next night.